Today started like any other day. I shower in the morning, and dress for breakfast. I go and eat my usual fare and open the Library and start working.
At 9 AM, I make the phone call to Graciela and finally she is there. Muy bien. She speaks English so it isn’t difficult to set up a time during lunch break to see the bike. She gives me a better description of the front of her house, so I will recognize it. Stone wall red bougainvillea hanging over it, with a wooden door. I will leave the Library at Noon, I tell her I will be there at 12:30. I have my $50 in my wallet, so I am all set.
Mandy comes in and I tell her that I am going to look at the bike today at lunchtime. She is happy for me, and I am happy for me, we are happy. At 11, the 747 flies overhead so I know that it is raining outside. Mandy has her bike outside, and I wonder if there is anything in it that shouldn’t get wet. Her laptop and backpack are inside, but her daughter’s plastic purse is in the front basket. It is okay to get wet. Mandy has a different luncheon engagement today and won’t be eating at the commodore today. This is the second time I have heard the cafeteria called the commodore. Hmm. I think about this with puzzlement, but then the light bulb lights! It is not a commodore, but a comedor; a place to comer or eat! These Spanish have a different word for everything!
Mandy asks if she can leave her stuff here and just bike (in the rain) to lunch. Most definitely! I surely don’t care. I lock up the Library, and open my trusty OSJL umbrella and walk to town. Since I have better directions with better descriptions, I am sure to find the house today. And I do. There it is as described. The wall and gate are so high I can’t see in. I try to open the gate, but it is locked. I knock on the gate. I knock louder. I stand back to take a better look and then I see two little buttons off to the side of the gate in the stonemasonry. The buzzers for two houses or apartments that must be behind the lava wall. I buzz and the door buzzes back. And, I open the gate to a pleasant front yard, crammed with bikes. They all look pretty nice. Graciela meets me and says This way to the bike. Nuts! It’s not one of these bikes in the front. I see the bike. It is pretty old and the tires are very worn. She says that she is selling it for a friend, who wants $50. I say Fine. But I must look unsure. I know that the seat is too high. I would kill myself getting on and off of it. I ask if she has a wrench to lower the seat (right now). She says her husband doesn’t have a wrench, sorry. I probably look disappointed, because she says, Take it, get the seat lowered, get some air in the tires and if you don’t want it call me and bring it back. I like the idea of me being able to return it, so I fork over the fifty. She says Good luck with it, and walks me to the gate. Gracias. De nada.
I try riding it, and test the brakes. It is definitely too high. And I walk it to the bike shop, Benotto’s, on Baltra Ave. I have to gesture to tell the guy to lower the seat. He adjust it to make it level. I indicate, No, the seat goes down. Now he understands, gets a wrench, and adjusts it down. More. More? Si, more. The seat is almost sitting on the frame, and he stops and tightens it. He gestures for me to get on it. It is okay, just a tad too high, but my toes hit the ground while sitting and that will be as good as it gets. I ask for air in the tires. How much? Fifty cents. Like whoa! I give him 75 cents and I have just become one of his permanent bike customers.
I slowly bike back to the Station. This is an okay bike. I am not sure if I did well paying $50 for it or not, but the bike definitely came to me, so I won’t argue.
It has a basket in the front and a baby seat. And, this is not your everyday American safety baby seat. It is some wooden contraption bolted to the bar that goes across the frame, but padded and with fringe, to make it look like a western saddle seat. When I think “baby seat,” I think some big molded seat that sits behind the pedaller. But not here. The baby seat is between the biker and the handlebars! Very different take on child safety here, that’s for sure.
Well, I bike back to the station, kind of unsure but it holds up and so do I. I am back to work in time. No lunch today, I guess. I’ll grab a granola bar later with some water.
I am psyched to have wheels! When I get back to the dorm room, I show Mari. She says How much? And I say $50, but I can return it if I don’t want it. I still don’t know whether I got a good deal or not, but I got Wheels, baby! Wheels!
